Adeline An Angel's Secret
by SisterDramamine
Summary: Crowley wasn't Castiel's only secret. The plan was to save her mortal soul from eternal damnation. He never meant to fall in love but he did, and hard. Now she needs saving from an angry Arch Angel and a ticked off Fate. Can Castiel protect his love from the clutches of his vengeful family or will his obsession with locating Purgatory condemn her to an eternity of Hell in Heaven?
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Supernatural or anything related to it. I wouldn't want to. That's a lot of responsibility. The story idea is of my own creation as are all OCs, but I'm not gonna claim ownership to those, either. Not really an AU: more of an "extended scene". Begins at the end of Season 5 and goes through the end of Season 6. May contain spoilers. Enjoy and don't forget to review!**

My lungs fill with water as they gasp for oxygen. But there is none. Only the frigid liquid blackened by the cloudless night sky. My limbs flail, frantic and desperate, my fingers reach for the thick steadfast arms that hold my body in its submerged state. I fail to find a grip around these arms, my mind sending my body incoherent messages that are being translated as panic.

And I do.

I can feel my legs penetrate the waters surface, kicking madly at the cool air as my lungs continue to flood. Panic. Fear. Fatigue?

The darkness surrounds me, slowly at first then rapidly. It seeps across my vision from the outside in until there is no more. My heart gives one last desperate thump as every ounce of heat flees my body, now limp and eerily still.

And...

... this is a terrible way to begin a story. You'll have to excuse me but you've jumped in at quite an awkward time for me to start telling tales, even if they are true. I'm a little preoccupied with drowning at the moment. However, seeing as how the panic has left and the darkness has taken over, I suppose I have a few moments to fill you in.

I would say this story begins one fateful evening a little over a year ago but that would be an inaccurate statement at best. I've met Fate and I can say, first hand, she had nothing to do with it. Where this story begins is around the same time Fate was still reeling from the mockery two powerfully stubborn mortals made of her work. If anything it was random chance that gave Fate a run for her money that evening. The right place at the right time sort of moment. I doubt highly anyone, mortal or otherwise, would select me out of the billions of people on the planet and think "yes, this scum would make the perfect companion and absolute lover".

It starts like this, late one starry evening on the ledge of a tall bridge high above a winding river that cut through rocks and around majestic mountains. If you must know, as I suppose you do to fully grasp why he made himself known to me in the first place, my intentions for sitting upon that ledge were not for the view but rather for a place to end it all. Truth be told, my life was in shambles. I had been to rock bottom and from there I kept going, spiraling down, down, down in a seemingly endless cycle of hopeless addiction and despair. I was twenty six with ten dollars to my name and 98 pounds to my malnourished body. I was hungry but I could not eat, partially due to a lack of funds but mostly I attributed this to the fact I couldn't stop stuffing my nose with uppers by any name. The flesh of my bone thin arms was riddled with scars, my once blue eyes had turned lifeless, gray and sunken.

A light breeze kissed my pale face. It rustled my black and blue hair and taunted me with its life like presence. I sat with my legs dangling freely over the edge while I inhaled my last earthly cigarette, wondering if the fall would hurt or if I was already dead enough inside to miss the pain it might cause.

Let it be known I didn't want to die. Not really. What I wanted to end was the addiction that clung to me like a parasite that refuses to detach itself. I wanted to kill the vast hollowness that had consumed me for years. I wanted to kill not myself but who I had become: just another stupid junkie who had burned all her bridges and ties to family, to friends and everyone in between.

I was so empty I couldn't cry. The single emotion I could feel was an intense despondency and I was so lost in this I could see no other way around it. My life was a meaningless stain on the world and, for a moment, I figured I was doing humanity a favor by ridding my body from this mortal coil.

I allowed the remains of my cigarette to slip from my fingers and I watched as it became enveloped by the night before it could hit the river below. A profound, staggered sigh rolled from deep within as my body began to vibrate. This was it. My final breath of life. Adios, cruel world.

And then came his voice. Deep, gruff and so sudden it nearly pushed me from the ledge before I could push myself.

"If I were to tell you that you just survived the Apocalypse," the voice spoke from behind me, "would you still jump?"

I spun around to see just who this voice belonged to, temporarily forgetting my woes in an unexpected break in my concentration. There stood an unexpected light in my blackened life, a dark haired man in a tan trench coat with stubble kissing his handsome features and vivid blue eyes that stared upon my frail structure in a mild curiosity. I blinked in surprise at him, pondering the oddity of his question.

"I'd tell you that you were nuts," I scoffed as my response. "And then I would jump."

"There is a special ring in Hell reserved for people like you," he spoke, taking a slow and cautious step towards me. At this I could only roll my tired gray eyes before I stared into the dark abyss beneath me.

"Hopeless junkies?" A rhetorical question.

"Suicides."

"You are nuts," I muttered. I could hear the sounds of his shoes scrape along the pavement as he walked closer still.

"You don't have to jump," he told me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

"I'm broken and I'm beyond repair," I shared, my eyes rising to him once more.

"Why do you say this?" he asked inquisitively with a slight tilt to his head.

"You wouldn't understand."

One more step and he was at the railing, now the only thing that separated himself from me.

"I know you are feeling hopeless," he spoke. "You are stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"What do you know?" I spat. "And what do you care? Why are you trying to save my pathetic life?"

"I am not trying to save your life," he bluntly replied. "I am trying to save your soul."

His eyes locked into mine and, despite the obscurity of his words, I could feel the truth in them. Silently I could only stare at him, temporarily at a loss for speech.

"I know if I were to tell you everything you would not believe me," he continued when I failed to provide another sour response. "But believe me when I say the Hell you will be sent to is a lot worse than the Hell you perceive in life."

His words struck me like lightning, penetrating me so intensely it sparked heavy tears to well hot behind my eyes before spilling down my pale face.

"What else am I supposed to do?" I asked in the overwhelming sorrow I felt for myself. Slowly he extended his hand to me.

"You live," he said so simply, as if it should have been obvious this whole time.

"Ha!" I cried between the tears. "I tried that and I failed."

His hand remained extended before me, unwavering in my hesitation to accept his help.

"If you take my hand," he told me, his eyes never leaving me. "I will free you from the addiction that plagues you."

I eyed him with an intense air of skepticism. No words could begin to question just how that might work. And then I thought that maybe, just maybe, tonight was not my night to go. I pondered the idea of living one more pointless day filled with drugs and starvation. The opportunity to commit suicide would arise again. At this realization I decided it harmless to humor this adamant stranger.

Finally I placed my small, bony hand in his and with a fantastic ease he lifted me to safety upon the bridge beside him. Balance lost, my knees buckled and I began to fall, only to be caught in his strong arms long before my body could reach the pavement. Upon my forehead he placed for a few seconds his right hand.

"I have fulfilled my end of the deal," he spoke as he helped me to my feet. "You are absolved of your addictions."

I blinked in awe at him, watching as he slowly began to step away from me.

"Who... who are you?" I stammered at last.

"I am the one who has given you a second chance," he replied while slowly walking into the shadows of the night.

"You're just going to leave me here?" I called after him. "How do you know I won't jump once you're gone?"

"You won't," was his certain response. "Go now, Adeline, and live your life."

And, with that, he was gone. Vanished into thin air, leaving me stupefied and alone once more on that bridge. He called me Adeline.

How did he know my name?

I took one last glance into the crevice, a sharp shudder running down my spine as I did so.


	2. Chapter 2

I walked the streets of the adequately sized city in the mountains that night with a light heart and a cleared mind. The spectacular display of neon signs looked beautiful and welcoming, not ugly and taunting. The sounds of laughter no longer hurt my ears nor did the sight of a young couple holding each others hands with a loving grasp make me want to gouge my own eyes out. I smiled at a freaking baby.

Aimlessly I wandered through the town I knew so well as if I were walking it for the first time in my life. The sights, the sounds, they were so familiar yet so new. I studied each building, each lamp post and fire hydrant with an intense interest and awe. Never before had I noticed just how beautiful a god damn street sign could be.

I found myself wandering into an all night diner where I spent my ten dollars on a hamburger and a plate of fries. And I ate it all. It was as if I had never eaten in my life. When the waitress learned that was all the money I had in the world, she wrapped up a slice of apple pie on the house and refused my tip.

With two dollars to my name I wandered back to my crummy rat infested apartment, all the while thinking of the mysterious stranger that had done far more than save my life. I thought about his blue eyes when I unlocked the cracked door with an upside down 6 hanging from a single screw. I thought about his extended hand as I looked over the few belongings I possessed; a single torn couch whose stuffing desperately tried to escape from rips scattered along the thin fabric, a single coffee table, a few folding chairs and one soiled futon with a single set of grimy sheets.

I let out a small sigh at the representation of the shambles my life was in but was reminded of my second chance when I thought about the brief embrace I shared with the handsome, powerful stranger. His words rang in my mind as I shuffled towards the bathroom and extracted an orange bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet.

_You are stronger than you give yourself credit for._

His words echoed throughout my head as I unscrewed the bottle and emptied its contents into my bony hand.

_I am not trying to save your life._

I stared at the round orange pills against the white of my palm.

_ I am trying to save your soul._

With an effortless ease I released the vile little devils from my grasp. They sunk into the toilet bowl with a "plunk, plunk, plunk". Flush. Gone. And I didn't want to jump in after them.

His image remained steady in my mind over the course of the next three days. That deep gruff voice speaking simply, truthfully.

_You live._

It lacked complexity but impacted me none the less and I was certain he was aware of this. Some how he knew. And I did just what he told me to do.

I found a job at a local coffee shop, my first job in years. I purged my tiny crap shack of an apartment of its tattered and fouled items and burned anything that reminded me of the empty vessel I used to be. I volunteered at the soup kitchen where I met the flamboyantly gay punk rocker and recovering heroin junkie, Vince, who offered his spare bedroom to me free of rent until I could get myself back on my feet.

All through this rapid change in a life I tried to end he remained on the forefront of my mind. It didn't take me long to figure out what he was and when I found my conclusion to be absolute it sent me into a fit of laughter. For years I was a firm nonbeliever and now this? I didn't question it. Without a doubt in my mind I knew he was an angel. Of God.

And, at the end of the third day, just as I had moved the few possessions I even owned anymore into Vince's apartment, he came back. Just as he had come the first time, he appeared seemingly from thin air.

"Adeline," his gruff voice spoke from behind me and, though his presence was quite sudden, I did not feel fear nor fright. Despite my lack of fear, I couldn't form a single word. Instead I stared at him in wonder as my chest filled with a gratified breath.

"I see you're still here," he stated when I remained silent. "That's good."

"I... I..." my lips stammered, tongue-tied in his holy company. "... should thank you. For the other night. You... you were right."

To this his only response is a small smile.

"I got a job," I began to babble. "And I threw away all my pills..."

"I know," he cut me off. "I'm glad you are making good use of your second chance. Not many people get one."

"Oh..." I trail. "So... who are you?"

"My name is Castiel," he spoke. "I'm sure you've already figured out what I am."

I nodded at his statement as we stared at each other in the dim light of the small apartment, a great prodigy growing within each of us for the other.

"Castiel," I whispered, quietly repeating his name until it was seared forever in my mind. "Why are you here?"

He blinked at the question, pondering his response.

"I don't know," he admitted at last. "I am returning to heaven soon and I'm not sure if, or when, I will return to Earth." He paused here to take a slow step towards me. "I suppose I came to say goodbye."

The old floor boards creaked as he strode slowly towards me.

"To me?" I wondered out loud. "But... but why? Of all the people on Earth..."

"You doubt yourself too much," he cut me off again and, staring me square in the eyes, added, "You are amazing." He continued when I make no response. "I came to say goodbye because, for some reason, I feel attached to you."

By then we stood nearly face to face, his intense eyes staring straight through my own and deep into my very being. With a gentle touch his fingers graced the skin of my cheeks, tucking loose strands of black and blue hair behind my ear.

"Your eyes," he softly spoke. "They're blue again."

Upon my forehead he placed a single but electrifying kiss and, as quickly as he had entered, disappeared into nothingness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to those who have left me kind reviews & welcome to my new followers! Here's another chapter for you to tide you over till the next one. I hope you continue to enjoy my little story and don't forget to review! :) ~Dramamine**

I worked. I went on long hikes through the mountains that surrounded the city. I made new friends and attended a concert. I did as he told me. I lived. And I did it all with his image seared into my brain.

He was gone and that was that. He had stayed long enough to save me and the only way I could think to repay him was to use his gift to me in the best ways I could fathom.

Only he wasn't really gone.

It wasn't long before he came back and I was not prepared to see him, not at all and especially not like that.

Vince and I were sipping coffee in the living room one morning a few weeks after he had said goodbye. He appeared, as he does, quite suddenly and out of nowhere. Only this time he was covered in blood. His knees gave way and he crumpled to the wooden floor with an agonizing groan.

"Shit!" Vince cursed, his tall blue mohawk bouncing as he swiftly rose to his feet. Coffee sloshed from our mugs as we jumped back in complete and utter surprise.

"Castiel!" I gasped and before I knew it I was on my knees beside his wounded body.

"Castiel?" Vince echoed, shaking spilled coffee from his hand. "You mean that angel you were telling me about?"

I didn't respond. Instead I gently placed a hand upon the broken angel's shoulder.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to keep the panic from rising up and out through my speech.

"It's... a long... story," he grunted, all but spitting blood as he spoke.

"Vince, get bandages..."

"No," Castiel protested sternly. "I will be okay. These wounds will heal. I just need to rest."

"Help me move him," I instructed Vince who moved hesitantly towards us.

"Where?" he asked, crouching to gather Castiel's shoulders into his arms.

"My room," I directed him, taking the angel's legs in my own grip. He grimaced in pain as we awkwardly maneuvered him to my bed where we rested him upon the clean white blankets.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" I questioned, again trying to keep down the urge of anxiety I felt.

"No," he growled through gritted teeth. "I'll be fine. Just go."

Vince obeyed but I remained in my place. My eyes could not leave this horrible scene before me as sheer terror tore through my body. How was it possible for a holy entity like himself to become so broken, and who was capable of an evil like this?

"Go," he growled again. This time I listened but did not stay away for long, bringing with me a glass bowl full of warm water and a black wash cloth. The bowl I placed upon the night stand before I cautiously took a seat on the bed beside him.

"I told you to go," he reminded me in his gruff voice. I said nothing as I submerged the black towel into the water. I wrung it out and slowly brought it to the sides of his face. He flinched at the touch, his eyes fixed upon me in a vague wonder that surfaced beneath the pain.

"No bandages," he grumbled.

"I know," I spoke softly. "You could at least let me clean you up."

Finding no qualms with my gesture he fell silent, allowing me to gently wipe blood from his face. I could feel his vibrantly blue eyes on me as the clutch he held on his stomach began to relax, the pain clearly subsiding. His face softened and I could swear I saw a small smile form across his lips.

"I stopped the Apocalypse," he spoke in his deep voice, breaking the intense silence we shared. I could not reply. I didn't know how. I mean, what do you say to that?

"Well, not just me," he continued modestly when I remained silent. "I aided two brothers. The Winchesters." He paused, his eyes temporarily meeting mine. "Have you heard of the Winchesters?"

"No," I told him, shaking my head before I returned to gently clearing blood from his flesh. "I can't say that I have."

"None the less, we stopped the Apocalypse." He paused again, thinking long and hard about his next words and if he should say them at all. "Some of my brothers did not appreciate that."

"What, like, other angles?" I questioned, pausing temporarily in my work. He nodded solemnly.  
"Is that who did this to you?"

Again he nodded his truthful response. I wasn't sure I wanted to know but he told me. Everything. Sam and Dean Winchester. Lucifer and Michael. Rafael. Death himself. He told it all to me and by the end of his tale I wondered if, suddenly, I knew too much.

"I don't mean to warp your perception on life," he told me when I failed to produce a single remark on the story he so blatantly told me with an incredible ease. "I suppose I just wanted some one to share this with. Some one who wasn't involved."

"It's okay," I assured him with a small smile. "Although I do feel a little involved at this point."

"Hmmm, yes," he agreed, his voice somewhat distant as his gaze left me. "I suppose you are."

Another long silence fell between us as I finished cleaning the wounds that were already healing.

"Do you need to get some sleep?" I asked him in a gentle tone as I placed the wash cloth in the warm water now marbled in a soft red. He shook his head, his blue eyes retuning once more to me.

"I don't sleep," he told me simply.

_Of course you don't_, I thought to myself as I glanced at the alarm clock just beside the bowl of bloodied water.

"I need to head to work," I told him, rising as I spoke. "Do you need anything? A magazine or some water?"

"No," Castiel replied. "I think I'll be okay."

"Right," I said with a small sigh. "I should be back around four o'clock." Pause. "Are you sure you don't need anything?"

His intense, blue eyes locked onto mine as he spoke.

"I'll be fine."

I headed straight home after work that day to find that Castiel was, as promised, just fine. He stood firm on the old hard wood floor in the living room, his gaze fixed through the window, staring somewhere beyond the horizons. The way he looked now, it was like nothing had happened in the first place. As if he hadn't appeared in a bloody heap only hours prior.

For some reason, I lacked surprise.

His head turned slightly in my direction when I made my slow approach to him.

"I'm glad you're better," I told him.

"I told you," he returned, his eyes once more at the window. "All I needed was to rest."

"You're welcome..." I mumbled. He turned to face me, his expression filled with intrigue.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I suppose I should thank you for your generous hospitality."

He stared at me then, his eyes digging further into me than any knife ever had.

"I must be going," he told me at last. "But there's one thing I have to do before I go."

He placed his hands just before my ribcage, all but touching my thin frame.

"This will sting for a minuet," he warned me and, just as his words left his lips, a hot burning sensation struck me deep within. I wheeled in the sudden explosion of agony. He didn't let me fall to the floor, catching me as he had the first night we met.

"I'm sorry," he spoke again, holding me easily in his strong arms. "But it was necessary."

"What the hell was that?" I gasped, my eyes widened in an equal mixture of shock and pain.

"It's protection," he told me, helping me find balance on my own two feet. "Rafael and the others have seen you with me by now, I'm sure of it. With this, no angel or demon will be able to locate you."

I let out a slow breath as the searing pangs of Castiel's "protection" dragged itself from my body still ridged with shock. He guided me with his gentle arms to the comfort of the long ivory colored couch where I sat in an overwhelming daze.

"You will feel better in an hour or so," his rough voice told me. "I must leave. There is a friend I need to speak with."

His vibrant blue eyes locked into mine for a brief but intense moment and I could see the wheels working in his mind. At last he leaned down and planted a long kiss on my forehead. And, as he always appears, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Only a few days passed before he came to me as he did. My focus had been on the espresso machine set directly before me, my back turned to the counter. He was, needless to say, the last thing I expected to see upon making my sharp turn but there he stood, mere inches from my own body.

"Jesus," I gasped in surprise before I could think better of it. If he noticed, as I don't doubt he did, he made no indication my swift comment was offensive to him. My eyes darted about the coffee shop, wondering if anyone, customer or employee, had witnessed his sudden and seemingly random appearance. But no one had.

"Castiel," I whispered at last. "What are you doing here?"

"I went to your apartment," he spoke in his deep and rough voice, his body still only inches from mine. "I saw your friend Vince kissing another man."

"Yeah, he does that..." I began to say when I was cut short by a loud and unsatisfied shout from the lips of the dark haired coffee house manager, Brenna.

"Hey!" is what she yelled, her thick, black framed glasses sliding down her nose as she approached us with a rapid motion. "No one but employees behind the counter."

I tugged hastily on the sleeve of Castiel's dirty trench coat, urging him to make his way around the coffee station.

"Sorry," I apologized for him as I all but pushed the confused angel out from behind the counter. "He's not from here."

"Oh?" was Brenna's skeptic remark. "Where's he from?"

"Canada?" is was what fell out of my mouth, an obvious lie. To this she simply rolled her eyes and walked away, happy this stranger had removed himself from my work station. I let out a deep sigh as I watched her walk away, waiting for her to wander from my sight before locking my eyes once more on Castiel.

"So, why are you here?" I asked. From deep within a hidden pocket in his tan coat he withdrew a small, black object. Gently he placed this upon the black and white marbled countertop and swiftly slid it towards me. A cell phone.

"Remember when I hid you from all angels and demons?" he asked me.

"How could I forget?" I mumbled.

"That means you're hidden from me too," he continued, watching as I took the sleek black phone into my thin hands and studied it. I couldn't remember the last time I owned a cell phone.

"Big things are coming," he went on, his voice lowering to a solemn hush. "In heaven."

I tore my eyes away from my new toy, locking with his as a look of concern undoubtedly crossed my face.

"Like what?" I whispered, my eyes searching his expression for answers.

"Nothing to worry about," he quickly assured me. "I am just making sure I can find you if need be." He paused, his head motioning to the device clutched in the palm of my hand. "I managed to save three numbers. If trouble does arise, they will know what to do."

I checked the contact list and found three names listed in alphabetical order: Bobby, Dean, Sam. Names of people I didn't know but had heard all about. Hunters.

"Thanks," I said at last, finding little comfort in his small gift. "Why isn't your number in here?"

His blue eyes lit up with amusement at the question.

"I don't have a number," was his simple reply, stating this as if it were obvious.

"How can I reach you?" I wondered aloud, my hopeful eyes meeting his.

"You pray."

Of course.

"I must be going," he told me as he does. "I have matters to attend to."

"Wait!" I called before he could vanish but I couldn't tell you why. I didn't have much to say. I suppose I didn't want him to leave.

"How did your talk with your friend go?" I forced a random question from a brain otherwise lost from concise thought. It was a simple question that caused him to temporarily break his gaze from me, staring off again into places I could not see.

"Not as I expected," was his simple response. He looked again to me and, as he does, placed a long and gentle kiss upon my forehead before vanishing.


	5. Chapter 5

A full two weeks passed before I once more laid eyes upon the enigmatic angel of the Lord. He called from an unavailable number, his deep voice swiftly asking for my location. He needed only one word - "apartment" - before he stood before me.

He complimented my hair, by then stripped of the black and blue to reveal my natural golden locks. And then he mentioned the fact that I had put on a little weight. Under the circumstances I took this as a compliment but was quick to inform him this was nothing he should ever say to a mortal woman.

As usual his visit did not last long. A quick hello, vaguely and mysteriously making light mention of the current troubles he faced in Heaven, making sure I was still okay. And then he would leave, as he did, with an elongated and tender kiss upon my forehead before disappearing.

After that he began coming around more frequently. It began slowly, once a week for only minuets at a time and always in the same fashion. A quick call from an unavailable number requiring no more than a few words before I was found. When he could see with his own eyes that all was well with me on Earth he would place his lips upon my forehead and leave me with that kiss until next time.

It didn't take more than a month for his visits to increase. He started appearing twice, sometimes three times a week, the time he spent with me extending a bit with each visit. At first there wasn't much for us to say, not really. But we didn't need words. There was a significant comfort we shared in the simple company we each provided the other as we studied one another with a wonder and curious fascination gleaming lively in our eyes.

And then, one night, I found a visit from him to be quite out of the ordinary.

He appeared, as he does, after a hasty phone call to find me resting comfortably on the couch in my apartment with a thick book held firmly in my hands.

"Adeline," he spoke to me, swiftly advancing towards me. "You need to come with me."

To this I raised an eyebrow.

"What?" I questioned. "Why?"

"You need to leave town," he told me, urging me to take his hand.

"Wait, what?" I asked, blinking up at Castiel's face laden with concern. "What's going on?"

"I can explain later," he promised. "If you have anything you hold dear I would retrieve it quickly." He paused before adding, "Now."

I could see the heavy look of impatience cross his face when I stared back at him with a great hesitance, chewing thoughtfully the words I might speak next.

"I... I don't understand..." I began to babble when he grasped my arms firmly, his serious blue eyes locking to mine.

"There's no time to explain," he told me with an undying urgency. "Go get your things. Now."

Despite the rising anxiety I felt in his hurried demeanor, the serious tone in which he spoke with, I was still hesitant. Under any other circumstance with anyone else in the world my response would have been an immediate "no" followed shortly by "get the hell out of here" and a thrown object or two.

"Don't you trust me?"

But this was different.

"Adeline?"

He was different. Never mind the whole "he's not really a person" bit. By this point I had long since felt the strange yet powerful, unspoken connection that would bind us together for eternity.

At last I snapped awake from my thoughtful trance and allowed him to follow me to my bedroom where I collected a large purse full of clothes, makeup and cash. I pulled a single, silver necklace from a small porcelain bowl on the short dresser, swiftly stuffing it into the pocket of my jeans before turning to face Castiel.

Words were needless. Either he knew I was ready or we had run out of time because, before I could even open my mouth to speak, he grabbed at my left hand and...

... suddenly, I wasn't in my apartment.

We stood in what looked like a cheap motel room, the walls decorated with wood paneling and tacky paintings of pheasants and deer, the sole king size bed adorned with an ugly flower patterned spread and cream colored sheets. Somewhere outside a siren blasted, bouncing off pavement and concrete to echo in the night. Screams of pleasure penetrated the paper thin walls, its source from a room just beyond the bed's head board.

And then I realized just how ill I felt.

My purse fell free from my clutch as my knees buckled, leaving me to crumple to the bed where Castiel rushed to my side.

"You'll be alright," he assured me confidently. "The sickness you feel now is quite temporary."

"Good," I breathed between waves of nausea. We sat in silence for a moment as we waited for my head to stop spinning and, true to his words, it didn't last long.

"So, do you think you have time to explain what exactly is going on?" I asked. Wordlessly he stared at me, his head cocked slightly to the side, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated what exactly he would tell me.

"There is a civil war," he began at last, looking away from me, towards some far away place beyond the paneled walls and the sirens. "In heaven." He paused to think further on the affairs he was about to spill to me. "There are some angels who think I was chosen by God to lead, and there are others who believe Rafael should reign."

"And you're going to war... for that?" I wondered aloud. His eyes lost focus from his faraway stare, snapping on to me with a grave sincerity laced across his expression.

"A heaven ruled by Rafael would mean the end of the world as you know it," he told me squarely. "He means to free Lucifer and Michael from hell and reset the apocalypse."

"And what would a heaven run by Castiel be like?" I questioned.

"Me?" he said. "I do not want to lead."

"Then what do you want to do?"

"I want to free them."

And I believed him.

"So, why are we here?" I asked. "And where exactly is here?"

"Detroit," he said, my brow wrinkling at his response.

"Detroit?" I repeated. "Really? Detroit? That's safer than that little mountain city in Colorado?"

"For the time being, yes," his rough voice replied. "Rafael caught wind of you. He intercepted one of my phone calls to you and had me followed." He paused dramatically to let out a small and slow sigh, looking to the floor as he did so. "He sent some one to come for you."

"For me?" I echoed again. "As in... kill me?"

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "But I do know it wouldn't be pleasant. For either of us."

He looked to me again, finding concern carried deeply across my face.

"Don't worry," he attempted reassurance. "He can't find you here."

"How long do I have to stay here?" I asked. "When I can go home?"

"I don't know," was his simple and honest response. "Tomorrow I will search for better accommodations."

"That's great, but when can I go home?"

He quietly looked at me, through me, studying my nervous state.

"I do not know the answer to that," he softly spoke in that gruff voice of his. Pause. "I'm sorry I've brought this upon you. I should have stayed away." Pause. "But I couldn't. And I'm sorry for that."

I was at a loss for words as I soundlessly stared into his apologetic eyes. It was then I first found the ability to not just stare at him but in him. I could almost feel the pain he endured in the battles he participated in, the wearing burden he carried as the leader of an army of angels, that growing spark of hope breathing somewhere deep inside him. The swelling sensations that, until quite recently, were foreign to him and still clouded his mind with wonder. Sensations that arose because of me.

"Save your sorrow," I told him at last, forcing a small smile through my fear. He accepted this with a small nod of his head before rising from the bed.

"I have to go," he told me as he does. "I will return tomorrow."

He left me as he did, with that profoundly affectionate kiss upon the forehead and a somewhat bewildered mind.


	6. Chapter 6

As promised, Castiel arranged for me a better place to stay and before I knew it I was in a lavish upscale suite in a Las Vegas hotel. His presence in the time surrounding the transition was short, his instructions even shorter. Get a job, make friends, do whatever I need to keep me from going hungry or crazy but do not, under any circumstance, use my real name. He slipped me a new cell phone with the same three numbers programed inside before he placed that kiss upon my head and vanished.

I did as he advised. I got a job as a cocktail waitress at one of the many casinos. I made some new friends and went to the movies. I called myself Lily. And, the whole time I tried to build another new life for myself, I couldn't help but think of the short life I left behind and wondered what Vince must have thought became of me.

My thoughts weren't only on Vince and that tiny mountain city. Frequently my mind would find itself transfixed on Castiel and the profound bond we shared. I would sit in wonder not only on the gravity of this attachment but what it might mean and where it would take me. Us. It only took a few weeks of lost thought in Las Vegas before I found out.

One hot, arid night he came calling in his usual fashion, but there was nothing usual about this visit. His face appeared haggard, worn from the horrors of battle with his own brothers. I could all but hear his mind churning and bouncing from thought to thought.

"Adeline," he spoke as he often did in his deep voice, standing dead center of the enormous suite I had called home for three weeks.

"Castiel," was my reply, my eyes darting about his demeanor. "Is everything alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes," he muttered absently. "Yes, everything is... okay..."

"You're not very good at lying," I stated, folding my arms across my chest. "What's going on?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he told me.

"Other than a raging war in heaven?" I interjected.

"Other than that," he said, "there is nothing."

"I still don't believe you," I told him, raising a suspicious brow at him.

"It's nothing," he repeated. "I'm glad you're still safe."

I let out a long and deep sigh. As much as I enjoyed the wonderful fact that we didn't normally need words I suddenly felt myself in a state of annoyance for the lack of them. Sometimes conversation can be helpful and necessary.

"Look," I began, relaxing my arms. "What's the point in all this if you can't tell me anything?"

He tilted his head, sending me a curious glance.

"I don't understand what you mean by 'this'," he said.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Whatever this is. Whatever we are to each other. What's the point in protecting me if you're not going to tell me what's going on and what you're protecting me from?"

He pondered my question with a great intensity but didn't reply, not right away. Instead he stared at me with his vibrant blue eyes shining with deep thought.

"There is nothing going on," he spoke slowly when he had finally chosen the right words to share with me. "Nothing you don't already know about."

Slowly he began to move towards me, his eyes never leaving me as he took each soft step.

"I've had a lot on my mind as of late," he said.

"Like what?" I urged him to continue.

"The war for one thing," he said. "Stopping Rafael from opening the cage."

He paused both in speech and in his slow shuffle as he stood less than an arms length from me, his eyes blazing hot with a certain emotion I recognized as new to him as he stared down at me.

"And you."

I blinked up at him with a mixture of mild amusement and confusion plastered upon my face.

"Me?" I whispered.

"I don't know why," he went on. "I can't get your image from my mind. Even in the midst of battle I can see your face, as though I'm not just fighting for Heaven but for you. For us." He paused, his eyes still locked on mine. "I feel things I have never experienced in my existence, and I feel them for you."

If my heart hadn't already been racing, by now it certainly was. How could it not? An angel had just confessed I was the first creature in his existence as a celestial being he felt this crazy emotion for. Me.

It would be a boldfaced lie to tell you I didn't hold the slightest bit of attraction for him. I did. How could I not? But I also held the notion this attraction would lead to nothing but a mysterious friendship with an even more mysterious angel. And now this.

Gently he ran an affectionate hand across my cheek as he brought his face only inches from mine, his bright eyes still shining upon mine.

"May I kiss you?" he asked. Wordlessly I nodded with a nervous excitement, half expecting him to simply place one upon my forehead before vanishing for another few days.

But he didn't. Not this time. This time his large lips met mine with an electrifying passion, sending wave after wave of intense sensations fluttering throughout my entire body. We stayed this way for a blissful moment before he slowly pulled away.

For a brief minuet he stared at me with a subtle look of surprise he felt in the overwhelming emotions that pulled at him. He kissed me softly twice more and, before I could blink, I found myself against the white wall with my lips locked feverishly to his. It was, admittedly, slightly awkward at first, considering his lack of experience in the activity, but he caught on quickly as we slipped into a steady harmony of fervor.

He ran a hand through my golden locks as he pressed himself against me. And...

I won't go into detail. It is, after all, a little personal. In short, I deflowered an angel. And it was the best I'd ever had.

It wasn't simply the action itself that made it so delightfully intoxicating. It wasn't meaningless sex. It was two life forces coming together to be one for a euphoric moment in time. It made my entire body vibrate and it made me see stars.

When he did leave that night, he left with a kiss not on the forehead but upon my lips. The way in which he looked at me just before he could disappear told me he had discovered the meaning of the strange and foreign emotions he felt towards me. And I felt them back.


	7. Chapter 7

Things were a lot different after we first physically expressed our love for the other. His visits stretched in length when he could manage the time between battles in the celestial war. His mystery, while not completely unshrouded, began to unfold as he slowly detailed his horrific experiences and tragic losses. I listened to everything and supported each decision he chose as commander of his army. I comforted him through the loss that hit him hardest of all, the death of his close brother and friend, Balthazar. I was, simply but wonderfully, there for him.

Castiel was there for me, too, or so I imagined him to be. When Raphael would get wise to my location, Castiel would scoop me up and take me to another random city throughout the United States. Each time he picked me up in one life to place me into the new, his procedure was always the same. New hotel suite, new phone, new name.

In Boston I was Bonnie who resided in an expensive Marriott suite. I was Penny in Portland where I stayed for two weeks in a Bed and Breakfast with a sweet old lady who found my company delightful and much needed. I went by Judy in Juneau, Sally in Salt Lake City, Dana in Duluth. And so on.  
By the time Fate could catch up to me I had changed my name seven or eight times and moved between just as many states. I was Gloria, working for a small, family owned restaurant in Green Bay when she made her first strike. Or, rather, her first attempt at striking. I didn't even see it coming which, I suppose, is how she works.

Work had run a bit late one cool Saturday evening, making escape from the building impossible before nightfall. My paperwork done, my tips in the back pocket of my dark denim jeans, I headed out the front door and into the streets illuminated softly by rows of street lamps that dotted the sidewalks. The walk to the Holiday Inn where I resided was normally one of peace. Low traffic, little to no crime. Normally.

Seemingly from nowhere, a dark eighty's model Oldsmobile came speeding around a blackened corner. It swerved blindly without headlights at an impossible speed. Headed for me. I frantically ran and swiftly dodged but found it impossible to get out of the gas machine's way.

"If you can hear me, Castiel," I prayed silently as I tried to flee. "I could use a little help."

Just as my body went stiff, bracing itself for a life ending impact, I wasn't on the street. I wasn't even outside. What surrounded me now, instead of night sky and concrete, were Castiel's strong arms that clung tightly around my small frame as we stood in the comfort of my hotel room. For a moment he simply held me in his protective embrace, almost as though he were afraid to let go. When he did, the expression he gave me grim.

"We need to go," he told me, urging me to quickly gather my things as he always did.

"What the friggin hell was that?" I breathed, my knees weak from my narrow brush with death. "Was that Raphael?"

"No," Castiel replied, scooping up my travel bag from the side of the bed. "It was Fate."

"What?" was my rhetorical response. "Fate?"

"Yes," he confirmed for me, quickly packing my few possessions as my body remained frozen in its spot in the center of the room. "I didn't know she was after you."

"But... but why?" I stammered. "Why me?"

Castiel hesitated, slowly zipping my small bag shut. He let out a long sigh before turning to look at me. As he opened his mouth to let loose the truth, some one beat him to it.

"Because you're supposed to be dead."

The voice was feminine and came from somewhere behind me. With a quick heel I spun to face a small structured blonde woman, thick black framed glasses resting upon her nose, a dense leather bound book clasped tightly against her chest. Fate. Dressed like a Librarian.

"I... I don't understand," I sputtered, glancing between the two.

"Let me fill you in," Fate told me with a snide voice. "That night Castiel convinced you not to throw yourself off that bridge?" She paused, leaning closer for a dramatic effect. "You were supposed to die."

Obviously. Had it not been for Castiel. Which is where it dawned on me that this was another jab at Fate herself.

"Nothing is as it was supposed to be anymore," Castiel finally interjected just when I thought Fate was going to rip my heart out with her bare hands. Her eyes snapped to the angel, narrowing as she stared him down.

"No thanks to you," she spat. "You and your little Winchester boy toys ruined me! I'm simply trying to clean up the mess."

"Adeline is off limits," Castiel snorted in a low growl as he swiftly moved towards the blood thirsty Fate.

"Says who?" she challenged him, her eyes still slivered in distaste for him.

"Me," he told her with an unbroken confidence in his voice, his face leaning menacingly close to her own. "And my army."

Fate chewed on that for a good minuet, leaving a heavy silence to fill the room.

"You," she said, jabbing a finger in Castiel's face. "Stop messing with my work. It's hard enough to mop up this damn apocalypse business without having to worry about you finding a sense of compassion and saving random humans from me."

Castiel said nothing, glowering down at her.

"Otherwise, I'll be back," she threatened. "And I'm taking some one with me."

And she was gone.

I turned to face Castiel who took a few minuets to relax the expression of fury across his brow. He retrieved my satchel from the large bed and silently handed it to me.

"We should go," he quietly spoke.

"What about her?" I wondered before he could take hold of my arm and transfer me to another town where I would have another name.

"Fate? Don't worry about her."

And we were gone. Gone from that hotel room, from Wisconsin. And, being the fool that I am, I didn't worry.


	8. Chapter 8

With Fate off our backs and behind us, Castiel swept me back to the Rockies to the small town of Whitefish, nestled comfortably in the great mountains of Montana. By day I washed dishes at a local pizza joint where everyone knew me as Willow. Most evenings I was Adeline again and I roamed the wilderness of the National Park with the angel at my side.

Every moment I have spent with Castiel has been seared into my mind for all eternity, yet one still sticks out, standing strong amongst the others as the most vivd memory. My fondest memory, if you will. I cling to this vision when times get tough and try to relive it, try to feel exactly how I did on that very night under the full moon on that rickety old dock. I've come close, but I've never been able to replicate it.

It went like this...

We sat upon an aging dock that stretched into the cool, clean waters of a small mountain lake beneath a sky that danced vibrantly with stars. Quietly we stared out over the natural splendor and its breathtaking beauty under the well lit night sky. Be it the serene display of God's handy work or the simplicity of having company, I could tell this was the calmest Castiel had felt in years, a fact that caused my lips to curve into a small smile.

"I understand now," his deep voice pierced the silence. My gaze I tore away from the starry skies to search his expression for a more elaborate explanation to his ambiguous statement. His own eyes remained fixed upon the mountain lined horizon, the moon's reflection glistening upon the lake's glassy surface, the heavens above.

"What's that?" I gently urged him to continue after another moment of silence had passed. At last his blue eyes abandoned the peaceful display before him and bore straight into my own.

"God's love for mankind," he replied solemnly.

"Oh?" was my uncertain response.

"Even if his feelings for your kind are but a fraction of the feelings I hold for you, I understand."

It was the closest he had gotten to actually saying "I love you," and I didn't care. I knew undoubtedly that he loved me and that was good enough. He was never a Don Juan, a Romeo or any other sort of romantic type and it would be foolish for me to think otherwise. He was, after all, an Angel of the Lord...

... which actually made his statement slightly more confusing.

"That's not to say I do not know love," he continued, sensing the mild intrigue that rested somewhere beneath the joy his words had caused me. "I feel love for my brothers and for my father. But it is a different kind of love."

"You and your brothers don't love us?" I wondered out loud, a thought that seemed ludicrous for that split moment before I remembered the whole Apocalypse affair. Castiel sighed.

"We do," he told me. "Because God told us to."

To this I said nothing. What was there to say? He already knew this epiphany was a little disheartening at best and this prompted him to swiftly continue.

"My brothers," he began, his eyes falling briefly as though the words he spoke brought him shame. "They think your kind is weak. While our literal powers are much greater than any man could ever dream of possessing, the hardships your kind has been forced to endure and the things you are capable of..." He trailed off briefly, his eyes lifting up to the night sky. "It takes a real strength my brothers do not understand."

He looked to me again.

"I do," he told me. "And I'm doing everything I can to protect you and your kind from them."

"I know," I all but whispered. As much as I tried not to think of it, the war he had become involved in weighed me with worry, something he was well aware of but seldom spoke of.

"I can do it," he promised me. "I can beat Raphael."

"And what happens when you do this?"

It didn't take long at all for Castiel to ponder his response.

"I will build you a house," he began in such a way it told me this was far from the first time he had given thought to the subject. "As big as you want, anywhere in the world. I'll plant you a garden, whatever you want me to grow, and..."

"What about you?" I cut him off abruptly. "What happens to you when this is all over? What happens to us?"

At this he blinked at me as his head tilted slightly, a mild look of curiosity unfolding across his face.

"I will take care of you," he responded with a simplistic tone, as if the answer to my question should have been obvious. "Everything you could ever need, everything you could ever want, I will provide it for you."

He spoke these words to me with an honesty so intense, so real, it brought a single tear to my eye and lit a passionate fire deep within me.

"When I defeat Raphael, I can be with you always. Forever."

I believed him, because he meant it. He truly wanted me at his side until the end of time. And, even still to this day, I wanted just that and nothing more.

When I failed to produce a verbal response he placed a long and tender kiss upon my lips. He took me into his strong arms where I fell into a blissful state of comfort. Not another word was spoken as I drifted peacefully to sleep, at rest and more in love than I had been the day before.


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn't long before Castiel swept me away from that little town in the mountains, continuing my nonstop tour of America by way of flight from vengeful angels. Everyone called me Kai in Kona where Castiel and I would make love on the sandy Pacific shores. I went by Sally in Seattle where he would take me to sold out rock concerts he knew I would enjoy, despite his own lack of interest in attending such a show. We would gaze up at the starry night skies from flat lonely fields in Fargo where I was known as Farrah. I was Nancy in Nashville, Aubrey in Austin and Tori in Toronto when Castiel felt Canada was a good idea. No matter where he took me we always found something special to share on a regular basis. Like when I lived as Polly in Portland, Maine, we would watch the sun rise over the Atlantic every morning.

I quickly grew accustom to relocating from city to city, spending no longer than a few weeks in each place like a fugitive fleeing from the law. I stopped attempting friendships outside a work setting. Once in a while I would meet a guy or gal too interesting not to enjoy a short platonic bond with but the normalcy anymore was solitude outside Castiel. With him, I didn't need friends. Not really. Call me crazy or call me naive, all I needed was him.

His visits I would wait for with a bated breath, always filled with a giddy anxiousness for the next time my eyes could lay upon him once more. I adored and cherished every single visit he made, regardless of the news he carried. I was his comfort in times of bad as well as good and he was, in turn, mine.

For several months after my first encounter with Fate, Castiel would come calling nearly every day, sometimes for hours at a time. Some days he would come to me with heavy stories from the gruesome things he had to endure, others we would sit in a simple silence or make love. Sometimes both.

And then Dean Winchester started calling again. Quite abruptly, Castiel stopped visiting so frequently and for shorter spans of time. Like that, he went back to the way it was before, where he would drop in mostly to see if I was okay or to move me once again. He was too busy between the war above and the Winchesters.

It was sometime around then I began to feel ill and violently so. Three days were spent with my head in the white porcelain bowl of the toilet which was the extent of energy I could muster from my drained body. I slept the twelve hours a day that I wasn't throwing up. By day four with no sign of Castiel and no sign of relief from the vile sickness that had taken hold, I dragged my weary body to the nearest Charleston walk-in clinic where I gave them the name Chantelle. The doctor there needed little from me before he could make the one diagnosis that would have been obvious to me had Castiel been human.

I was pregnant.

And please, don't ask me how that's even supposed to happen. There's no What To Expect When You're Expecting An Angel's Offspring. I checked.

When Castiel finally did come around I was still ill, unable to muster the strength to leave my bed unless it was to throw up. He rushed to my side when he found me in my unhealthy state. His first reaction was to heal me but I knew it wouldn't work. I feared, too, that he would discover my condition and, for some reason or another, I didn't want him to know. When I refused his aid he sent me a hurt look, curiosity laced throughout his blue eyes as he searched me for an answer I wouldn't supply. Instead I told him I would be alright soon and allowed him to give my hand a tight squeeze and place a gentile kiss on my lips before he vanished.

The sickness of bearing a half celestial being stayed consistent throughout the few months that followed. On days Castiel chose to transport me to another city he would gather my things before collecting me into his strong arms where I would hang my own arms weakly but lovingly around his neck until, only moments later, he would lay me down on another bed in another city. Seldom would he stay by my side for long and often he would disappear for full weeks at a time.

Not to say he didn't care anymore. I knew, without a doubt, he did. To a certain, miniscule degree he felt my pain or, if not mine, his own pain for witnessing a loved one in such heavy discomfort without an explanation and without a cure. Really, there was little he could do for me. I guess the thing I most regret was that, for the first time, he wasn't really there for me.

I wonder often what might have been had I simply told him in the first place. I like to think he would have made a grander effort to visit more often. To assure me that everything was going to be alright. But I couldn't tell him. There was enough for him to worry about, I didn't need to add one more thing to the slowly growing list of troubles.

Once the sickness had finally subsided, Castiel moved me to Marquette from Miami where he planted me not in a lavish hotel suite or resort cottage, but a fully furnished upscale apartment less than a mile from the frigid shores of Lake Superior. This is where suspicions should have begun to arise, but they didn't. I went along with the program as always, assuming as I did that, within a few weeks time, I would be in New York, Phoenix or St. Louis. I really should have began to realize something wasn't quite right when he asked me to accompany him on a short stroll along the beach but, again, I didn't.

My belly was in the early stages of protruding and easily concealed by loose clothing that whipped in the strong wind that blew across the great and mysterious blue waters. Waves thrashed throughout the vast lake, furiously pounding the cool sand we walked together, a thick silence striding along between us. Physically he was right there with me, stepping along side my barefooted stride in his black shoes, but mentally he was far from Lake Superior. Once or twice he would open his lips to speak but no sound would escape, as if the sudden cry of a gull or crash of a wave would steal the words from his tongue.

"I'm sorry," he apologized when at last he could manage speech. "For everything I have put you through."

I wrinkled my brow, cocking my head slightly to the side as I sent him a lost look.

"I've put you in a lot of danger," he continued, his eyes to the sand as he spoke. "Just by befriending you I placed you in danger. By loving you I've all but set your execution."

Tears welled hot behind my eyes, and while the hormones were not to blame, they certainly didn't help keep this hidden from him.

"I wish you wouldn't apologize for loving me," I blurted, furiously wiping fallen tears from my cheeks. "Or protecting me."

"Have I?" he wondered aloud, his eyes at last meeting mine to reveal a sense of sorrow he carried deep within. "I'm the one who influenced Raphael to go after you. I'm the one who keeps yanking you from place to place to the point you stopped making friends, stopped living a real life."

I tried to choke back the flood of tears that threatened to explode.

"Stop," I pleaded. "Don't say these things."

He let loose a long, heavy sigh as we paused in our stroll. Turning his body towards me he drew me close to him, his dimming blue eyes staring into mine.

"I am sorry," he spoke again, firm yet kind. "For the danger I have put you in. For the life you have had to live because of me." Pause. "I promise I am doing everything within my power to fix this."

I said nothing. I didn't know how, not without breaking down right there on the beach. There was a rapidly sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that screamed at me. Something horrible was about to happen. Not to him or me, but us.

"I love you, Adeline," he whispered, his words hitting me like a ton of bricks. Sincere they were but the way he uttered them and the fact it was the first time he had ever spoken them almost made me want to throw up. He wasn't just saying I love you, but also goodbye. And, sure enough, after one prolonged, passionate kiss upon my soft lips, he was gone.

And I haven't seen him since.


	10. Chapter 10

Throughout the first month of his absolute disappearance I half expected and half hoped he would pop in with a new phone, telling me to pack my bags before carting me off to New Orleans, Lexington or Boise. My belly slowly began to grow by the day and I caught myself rehearsing speech after speech, preparing for Castiel's return to me and what I would say when he took note of my condition. I took a job at a local used book store while I waited for him and every night I prayed for his return. But he never came.

A majority of the second month of his absence was filled with an extreme mixture of two vivid and intense emotions magnified, I'm sure, by my hormonal state. The first barrage of emotions was composed entirely of anger and feelings of abandonment. I would wonder in frantic vain why and how he could simply walk away from me, from us, as though we had never been entangled in a somewhat forbidden love. The feelings that always followed the anger were filled with sorrow and fear. His sudden and long departure left me with missing pieces of my very fabric and I could never help but wonder, _is he dead_?

By month three with no reply to my continued prayers, all I could feel was a mournful sadness that tore recklessly through my body. I began to accept his abandonment along with his death. I was certain he had perished at the hands of Raphael and I kept my eyes to the newspapers and television sets for signs of the Apocalypse.

While I grieved with a heavy heart the loss of my love, I still attempted good use with my time. I avidly volunteered at a homeless shelter and took six eight hour shifts at the book store every week where I read anything and everything. I adopted a gray coated Great Dane and named him Hamlet, taking him everywhere I went. Still, no matter how hard I attempted distraction from the profound feelings of sorrow and loss, nothing could completely tear my mind from Castiel.

In all honesty, had it not been for the little half human happily growing inside of me I probably would have found another bridge or cliff to hurl myself off of and at last satisfy Fate. So lost I would have become if not for that tiny little literal miracle. At the depth of despair it would softly kick or press its small hand against my stomach, as though it knew the pain I was in and it knew how to comfort this.

I visited a doctor and told him my name was Mary. He told me the baby was healthy, strong and normal. It was to be a girl, he said, and sent me on my way with a capsule of large iron supplements and a cheerful smile. I named her Cassandra and went about my daily minor distractions, attempting a "real life" for the first time in a year and a half or so.

It was late one night at the tail end of that third month when my phone rang with a number identified as unavailable. The book I had been absorbed in fell swiftly from my grasp as my heart jumped from my chest to my throat where it stood still. I stared at the black device as it loudly rang throughout the brick walled living room, waiting until its final ring to hit the answer key. But I didn't speak.

"Adeline?"

The voice was deep, gruff and too familiar not to recognize.

"... Castiel?" I breathed, my voice unable to speak higher than a whisper.

"I need you to meet me," the voice spoke hurriedly. "At the lake shore."

"I... what...?" I stammered incoherently.

"Come as quickly as you can."

And the line went dead. It took me a minuet or two to adjust my bearings, staring hazily at the phone in attempt to process the short, vague and emotion sparking conversation. Only minuets prior I had been under the impression he was gone. _Gone_. And suddenly, he wasn't.

Once my mind could focus I quickly pulled a long white sweater over my shoulders, pocketed my keys along with the little black cell phone and headed out the door. As fast as my pregnant body would take me I rushed to the shore, my stomach churning, my heart pounding wildly inside a tightened chest. Cassandra would give a kick every now and again, telling me everything would be okay.

He was there when I arrived, his back turned to me as he stared out over the eerily calm lake. Nearly out of breath I slowed my frantic pace as I cautiously and nervously approached him. My heart raced now not from my rapid movements but for him, to lay eyes upon him, to see him alive.

"Castiel?" I whispered as I drew closer. Gently I placed a hand upon his right shoulder, causing him to spin and face me.

This was not Castiel. This was some dark haired, clean shaven man with brown eyes and small lips that formed into a wide grin. I let out a small gasp as I staggered backwards, my eyes widening at the stranger.

"You're not... who are you?"

And then came that high-pitched voice from behind and I knew for certain I was in trouble.

"I told you she was pregnant."

I whirled then, nearly loosing balance in the process as my eyes searched for her and when they finally found Fate, they found another figure. Dressed in black slacks with a matching jacket over a white blouse stood a black woman somewhere in her forties by looks but something told me that, whoever she was, she was much older. And they both stared so intensely upon me and my current state I thought I might burst into flames at any moment.

"I told you not to mess with me anymore," Fate snarled, her eyes narrowing behind her thick glasses, her book clutched to her chest.

The stranger in the tan trench coat grabbed me from behind with such forceful strength I knew he was no human. My guess was angel, as was this other woman who tore her eyes away from me to give my captor a slight nod of the head. And, before I could blink, I was being held under the icy Superior waters. And I couldn't breathe...


	11. Chapter 11

You saw the rest. The kicking and flailing, the flood of water to the lungs. The climbing darkness that quickly took hold of my being as my heart gave out.

Now I'm standing knee deep in these frigid waters, only I can't feel it. The wetness, the low temperature, the rocks beneath my feet. And I can't stop staring at the stiff, lifeless body that floats pale and face down in the lake before me. Dead. That body, it's me. Or, at least, it used to be.

I feel my stomach, noticing the swelling bump is still with me. Cassandra kicks and I don't know what to make of it. Is she still alive? Or is she just a ghost now too?

It doesn't take me very long to realize I'm not alone. Instead of Fate or the other angels I find myself in the company of a pretty dark haired woman who stands silently beside me, dressed in a black jacket, dark jeans and a smile of sympathetic compassion. She is silent, waiting for a slew of questions she is accustom to.

"You're a reaper, aren't you?" I ask to which she slowly smiles and nods, a mildly curious expression crossing her soft face. Clearly this is not a typical question for her.

"Yes," she confirms gently. "I am."

"Are you Tessa?" I wonder, another question she is unaccustomed to.

"Yes," she repeats. "Castiel must have spoken of me."

"You knew about that?"

She only smiles mysteriously at this before silently beckoning me to follow her into whichever afterlife awaits me. And I do, without hesitation. But I have more questions.

"Why?" I finally inquire.

"I don't normally have an answer for people," she tells me as we walk towards the beach, our steps through the water making not a single ripple or disturbance across its glassy, calm state. "But I have a good idea it has something to do with what you carry."

She motions to my belly. Cassandra kicks.

"Is she still alive?" I press, my eyes glistening at her in the moonlight with an explosion of hope. She says nothing, urging me to keep my stride.

"Is she?" I beg. "What about Castiel? Who were those angels..."

"I know you have a lot of questions," she breaks my slew of frantic babbling with a kind, tender voice. "And I promise you they will be answered."

I let out a long, heavy sigh.

"But not by you?"

She shakes her head with a sad no.

"Can you at least tell me where I'm going?" I try. She gives me a light smile, our feet just steps away from hitting land.

"You know I can't answer that," she tells me. "Go see for yourself. You're almost there."

The instant my feet hit the sand, I'm no longer at the beach. Instead I stand at the end of an old, rickety dock that stretches itself into the cool waters of a small lake surrounded by snow capped mountains. Judging by the landscape and the vibrant memory of that specific place, I could swear I was in Montana. Only it's not.

It's Heaven.

Well, at least I managed to avoid Hell.

I turn my back to the lake to see Fate and the other two angels who sent me here in the first place, along with at least fifteen additional heavenly spirits all dressed in black suits. They stand congregated beneath a row of trees that grow tall in the sun. All I can think is, _Really_?

What the hell.

"Didn't you get what you wanted from me?" I shout boldly down the dock at them. The strange woman from earlier gives me a sideways glance of mild amusement.

"Do you know who I am?" she asks me, inviting herself to walk towards me. I shake my head no.

"I am Raphael," she tells me, throwing me aback.

"You're, ah..." I speak. "You're not quite what I expected."

She shoots me a glare of distaste on the subject.

"Yes, well," she says. "Thanks to Balthazar I had to obtain a new vessel."

"Balthazar?" I echo. "I... I thought he was dead."

"Castiel didn't tell you?" Raphael's face perks up at this, a menacing smile crossing her lips. "I wonder what else he didn't tell you?"

"Tell her about the time he kissed a demon," Fate speaks up, her voice filled with a vicious glee, like the mean girls in high school would get when you knew they were about to destroy you. "That's my favorite story."

My brow wrinkles at this.

"I don't think I want the details," I tell them. "What I'd really like to know is what you could possibly want with me. You got me. I'm dead."

Raphael lets out a small chuckle as makes her slow ascent up the dock towards me.

"Your body is empty," she tells me. "This is true. But you still have your uses to our cause."

"Like what?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the angel.

"First," she begins to list. "Where is Castiel?"

I furrow my brow in confusion.

"What?" is what comes out when my jaw drops. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure how much clearer I can make myself," she says, leaning forward an attempt to intimidate an answer out of me. "We know he's working with Crowley but we don't know where."

"I... I thought he was dead," I stammer, shaken by the news that he was, indeed, still alive. "I thought you..." Pause. "Wait... Crowley? The crossroads demon?"

Raphael studies me, trying to determine the truth to my words. When she finds them valid a smile slowly creeps across her lips.

"You really don't know, do you?" she asks rhetorically in wonder. I don't reply, my eyes on her as she stands before me with less than a foot between us. Cassandra kicks.

"I don't think she knows," Fate pipes in, a smug little smile on her own lips and a hungry look in her eye, anxious to tell me what Castiel has been up to.

"Your boyfriend has been playing with Hell spawns," Raphael informs. "Crowley? He's the King of Hell. And they're trying to open Purgatory."

"Purgatory?" I echo again. "Why?"

"Souls," she replies simply. "They're more powerful than you know."

"I... don't understand," I mumble, unable to fully wrap my mind around any of the information being fed to me.

"You don't have to," Raphael brushes this off. "The bottom line is we cannot let Castiel get to the souls."

"I can't help you," I tell her.

"Not with locating him, no," she admits. "But there is one more thing we need from you."

If I had a heart it would be pounding furiously against my chest as Raphael's eyes fall to my belly still protruding before me. Cassandra kicks.

"You're probably wondering by now if she's still alive," Raphael speaks, her eyes meeting mine. "She is."

"... But?" I raise an eyebrow.

"But she's not supposed to exist!" Fate spits in a fit of rage. "Just like you're supposed to be in Hell!"

"Calm yourself, Fate," Raphael orders harshly. "Hell is not the issue here."

She pauses to return her gaze to me with a twisted look of vengeance flashing across her dark eyes.

"Adeline," she calls me by name. "We need to get rid of the child."

"No," I whisper without thought. Like I have an escape plan. Raphael cocks a brow at this, somewhat amused but mostly annoyed.

"You say that like you have a choice," she tells me with a confident tone. With a swift arm she reaches her right hand towards my belly, towards Cassandra.

"No!" I scream, shielding my bulging stomach with my arms as I turn my back to her in an attempt to flee.

Suddenly I'm sputtering cold water from between blue lips. I'm freezing and wet from head to toe, laying upon a bed of what feels like cool sand. I gasp frantically for the fresh air that fills my lungs and inspires my heart to start pumping.

"Adeline," I hear a deep voice say as an arm is placed gently upon my shoulder. "I am here."

My blue eyes snap open.

Castiel.


	12. Chapter 12

Son of a bitch.

Before I can blink I'm no longer cold but rather comfortable and dry. I find myself surrounded by a thick forest of proudly standing Redwoods that stretch at an incredible height towards the heavens. Castiel stands before me under the night sky and, even in the darkness, I can see a subtle look of shame cross his otherwise tired face.

I can't decide if I should kiss him or slap him. Then again my mind still reels from the multiple extreme location changes I just endured over a short span of time. Perhaps now is not the best time to be making rash decisions.

"I'm sorry, Adeline," he tells me when my voice fails to work. "I thought if I stopped coming around they wouldn't be able to find you."

I move my lips but nothing comes out. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to go to bed but, most importantly, I want answers. Only I can't find words to start asking questions.

His eyes fall to my belly which he stares at, not with a note of surprise but fascination. He reaches towards it with a shy hand, placing his palm gently upon the swelling bulge. Cassandra kicks and his eyes once more meet mine.

"What have you named her?" he asks.

"Cassandra," I choke out as a single tear begins its slow descent down my flushed cheek. "You knew?"

"It's why I left," he tells me. "I thought... I thought you would be safer if I just stayed away for a while."

"Yeah, not so much," I manage to spit. "Fate ratted me out to Raphael."

"Yes," Castiel sighs. "I suppose we've managed to interfere with her agenda again."

"They told me some interesting things," I tell him. "Raphael and Fate. Up there in Heaven."

His eyes fall away from me at this remark, his hand slipping from the belly that carries his daughter to sit loosely at his side.

"You want to fill me in on a few details?" I press, folding my arms across my chest. "You could start with that demon you made out with."

Castiel's brow furrows at this.

"That was a terrible mistake," he grumbles. "It will never happen again, I promise."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"I'm supposed to trust you?" I all but shout at him. "You hid so much crap from me and then you abandon me for three months?" I pause, tears streaming down my face at this point. "I thought you were dead."

"I didn't abandon you," he tries to assure me. "I've been trying to protect you."

"I suppose that's why you didn't tell me about Crowley?" I continue. "About your plan to open mother lovin' Purgatory? To protect me?"

He tilts his head to the side and ponders this for a moment.

"Yes," he says finally.

"Tell me," I demand, staring him dead in the eye.

"Tell you what?"

"Everything."

Begrudgingly he does so. He tells me he was the one who pulled Sam from Hell only to discover over a year later he had left a crucial piece behind: Sam's soul. Which was, apparently, replaced a good three months ago thanks to Death himself.

He tells me about his partnership with the demon king Crowley. He tells me of Balthazar and how he's still alive, of Samuel Campbell and his quest to capture monsters for Crowley to torture. The souls, Purgatory, Eve. He tells me everything. Almost. There's something he's leaving out, I can see it in his eyes.

But I let it go. For now. There's enough for me to digest at the moment. I can't get much further past the fact that he's been a willing participant in Crowley's agenda to harness the power of Purgatory. Only he's not just willing, but as hungry and desperate as the demon king. And, truth be told, it scares me. A lot.

I tell him this and he says nothing. I tell him the road he has taken cannot possibly lead to anything good, despite his original intentions. Still he says nothing. I plead with him to stop before it's too late, before he's too far gone to recognize the line between good and evil.

"I wouldn't suspect you would understand," he shakes his head sullenly. My brow creases into a mixed expression of anger and fear.

"Or maybe I understand more than you do," I tell him a low voice, almost a growl. He looks at me and lets out a small sigh.

"I need to be going," he tells me, obviously uninterested in arguing and even less interested in listening to me. "Are you able to withstand one more location change?"

"Well I'm sure as hell not going to stand out here in the middle of this friggin' forest all night by myself," I spit.

With a silent and gentle touch to my arm I find myself standing amidst a field of grass growing so tall it reaches my chest. The moon light aids my vision, displaying a thick forest encompassing the small field and a small, two story brown house smack dab in the middle of it. Flat is the land I stare across and it's not the first time my eyes have fallen upon this scene.

Of all the places I've been transported to tonight, this is hands down the worst of them all.

"Why..." I begin to stammer. "Why did you... why would you..."

It's been eight years since I've been here. Maybe nine. I was forcefully removed from this piece of property and told never to return. Never mind this was during my drug escapades and never mind the fact that I've been clean for nearly two years. To her it won't matter. Especially if I come stumbling in after nearly a decade, bearing a child with no ring on my finger.

"I can't believe you brought me here," I finally choke out.

"You should be with family," he tells me. I want to laugh. Or cry.

The last thing I ever heard her say to me was this;

_"Adeline, you are no longer my daughter."_


	13. Chapter 13

Those furious and angry words ring heavily in my ears and my heart races wildly as Castiel aids me to the front door of my childhood home. I shuffle with my left arm looped around his right, most of my weight leaning into his solid structure. My head feels light, my body heavy from extensive travel, from fatigue and from fear. This is easily the scariest thing I've done all night.

"She's not going to let me stay here," I keep telling him.

"Yes she will," is what he assures me.

With each step we take I feel like my heart is going to explode through my chest. Cassandra kicks.

Upon reaching the heavy wooden door Castiel does not hesitate to give a loud knock. My every instinct is to turn and run. If my physical condition were any better, I probably would.

"Castiel, please," I beg him. "Just take me to another hotel..."

The door swings open with a shrill creek and we are greeted by a woman who is the spitting image of myself, that is if I were to suddenly age a good twenty five years. Her face falls when she sees me and a mixed bag of emotions flash across her sky blue eyes.

For some awful reason when I open my mouth what comes out is, "I begged him not to bring me here."

"A-Adeline?" she stammers, blinking furiously behind a set of red framed glasses to confirm her eyes are not playing tricks. For a minuet I think she's actually happy to see me. That is, until she whispers, "I thought I told you never to come back here."

Her eyes fall to my swelling belly and I know what she's thinking; crack baby.

She's also probably thinking I'm broke, starving and high.

"There's little time to explain why I've brought you're daughter home to you, Abigail," Castiel speaks, lifting my mother's gaze temporarily from me and my condition. "First you must know Adeline does not need a home. She needs her mother."

At first, mom can't produce a single response. She stares with a stupefied expression at Castiel and his bold introductory statement. Finally she blinks between the two of us before furrowing her brow at the angel himself.

"Who are you?" she demands.

"She can explain everything to you," her tells her. "I need to be going but, before I do, I need to know both Adeline and our daughter are going to be safe here with you."

The look she gives me is hesitant but longing. The anger and the justifiable mistrust is still there, to be certain, but there's a small gleam in her eye that tells me she has missed me. I am, after all, her only daughter and surviving child.

"Oh... okay," she finally accepts slowly, her voice filled with uncertainty. Her shy response is good enough for Castiel, who quickly pushes past her to usher me into the house. He helps me find a comfortable spot on the red couch in my mother's small living room. She watches as he gives me my farewell kiss and, once he vanishes, she sends me a mystified and bewildered stare.

"He just... did he...?" she rambles. I forgot she didn't know about angels.

"Yeah, he does that," I tell her with a long sigh, placing my hands upon my enlarged belly just in time to feel Cassandra's own hand softly patting it from the inside.

"But... how did he...?"

"It's a long story," I say. I settle my eyes on my belly as the room grows dense with an uncomfortable silence. She looms over me and I can feel her staring at me. There are many questions she wants to ask, I know.

"Look," I start with a sigh. "I'll call for Castiel in the morning and have him pick me up. I'll... I'll be out of your hair in no time."

"No," she whispers at last. "It's okay. You can stay."

My eyes snap up in time to watch her ease her way to the couch with a cautious fascination, sitting awestruck beside me.

"I'm... I'm surprised you're even alive," she admits, looking at me but unable to make eye contact. "I thought for sure you'd died."

I almost say "I did" but I think better of this. Instead I say nothing. I don't know what I would even tell her. Sure I could apologize for my behavior, the drug use and selling half her belongings, including her car, to support it. Then again, she was the one who abandoned me when I needed her the most.

"I'm glad you're okay," she says at last. Her hand moves to touch mine but stops, drawing back at the last moment.

"Yeah," I mutter. "Thanks."

We share another awkward silence before she attempts to break it.

"May I ask about the father?" she tries as Cassandra kicks. "You called him Castiel?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "It's a pretty long story."

"I have all night," she tells me. "I'm not sure I could go to sleep after this."

At last she finds the courage to look me in the eyes as I in turn find my own strength to look in hers. I can see the disappointment laced across her face, shadowed by a more intense feeling of relief blended with a deep curiosity. She really wants to know.

So, with a heavy sigh, I begin my story. I tell her about the bridge and my first encounter with Castiel. She listens as I tell her how he saved me from my addictions and how he started coming around. Her interest gathers with each word spoken as I tell her about the war in heaven, the cities he took me to in attempt to protect me and the relationship we kept.

I don't tell her everything. Most stories have a detail or two you don't want your parents to know about. For instance, I leave out the part where I was supposed to die the night I even met Castiel. Casually I fail to mention his dealings with the King of Hell and how he's slowly been abandoning me ever since I became pregnant. She doesn't need to know these things. I doubt I'll be staying long, anyway.

The sun peeks out from under the eastern horizon before I can finish my tale. And she believes me. Every strange detail, every bizarre twist, she hangs on to every word and knows this is not an exaggeration. Oddly, by the end of it, the disappointment has vanished from her face.


	14. Chapter 14

A full week of awkwardly attempting to pick up the pieces with mom goes by before Castiel returns. He brings no news but rather my bag containing the few possessions I carried from city to city along with Hamlet, all of which had been left behind in my hasty and rapid departure from the state. With my worldly belongings he brings a book with yellowing pages and weathered covers. The language inside is unfamiliar to me as are the many symbols displayed along the pages.

"It's to keep angels away," he tells us. "Paint these on the trees that surround your field and no angel can enter."

I can't help but furrow my brow at this.

"What about you?" I question and he doesn't look at me.

"I should protect your mother from the angels too," he proceeds, ignoring my question as he turns to face mom seated comfortably in her chair at the kitchen table. I don't argue. Why argue with reason?

"Hold on," I advise her. "It's not pleasant."

As the warning leaves my lips Castiel's hand is at her ribcage and mom's mouth twists in pain.

"What the...?" she mutters, leaning back in her chair and I can almost feel the searing pain again.

"It's protection," I tell her shortly, my eyes back to Castiel. "And what about you? If we angel proof the place, you can't get in either."

A weighted sigh rolls past his lips as he looks at me with mournful eyes. He shuffles past my mother to me, pausing only inches from my protruding belly.

"I don't like it any more than you do," he tries to assure me. "But right now I need to keep you and her safe."

He places a gentle hand upon my swollen stomach, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Everything will be okay," he tries to promise me. It's hard to believe someone who clearly doubts his own words.

I open my mouth to speak but it's too late. His lips are against mine for a long kiss before he can vanish.

"Castiel, wait!" I call but I know it's too late. Even if he heard me, he won't come back.

I want to cry. But I won't. Not in front of mom. Not yet.

Once the fire in her chest has calmed we buy multiple cans of brown paint and brushes at the local hardware store. We figure out the appropriate markings to use and set to painting under a pleasant afternoon sun while Hamlet wanders happily through the fields. An uncomfortable silence falls between us while we work, as if we each want to say something to the other but the words cannot be found.

"I'm sorry."

The words shatter the thick quietude the instant they are uttered. They surprise me, not only because of how sudden they occur but also by the fact that they come from me.

Mom looks away from the tree before her to settle her sky colored eyes upon me, her hand gently drawing the paint brush away from the bark and to the can of paint. A subtle hint of surprise crosses her face as she waits for me to continue.

"I'm... I'm really, really sorry," I emphasize. "For everything. The drugs, the stealing, the lying." I pause to let out a long sigh, putting my own paint brush down. "I guess... I guess I didn't deal with dad and Adelay's death very well and I don't know if I can ever make it up to you."

Quietly she ponders my words as she stares at her hands. I don't know what I expect her to say. There is no denying how awful I used to be after my dad and twin brother perished in that car accident. I was young and so selfishly caught up in my own grief I never once stopped to think she was hurting too. And I won't blame her if she says nothing at all.

Only she does. And it's so beautiful it makes me want to cry.

"I forgive you."

Soundlessly she returns to painting for a moment before pausing to look back at me. A soft sigh escapes her lips as she brushes a piece of graying blonde hair from her face.

"I'm sorry too," she says at last. "I shouldn't have kicked you out like that. I should have found help for you and... I'm sorry."

I give her a half smile.

"It's okay," I tell her. "I forgive you, too."

I do. If dying has taught me anything it's the fact that life is too short. To bear a grudge is to waste time.

The air between us lightens by our long overdue apologies and we chatter as we carefully paint symbols on trees. I tell her about the volunteer work I involved myself in from time to time in the random cities I moved between and she tells me about the recycling program she organized for the businesses in the small town a good ten miles from her land. I talk about Vince, the one real friend I ever had in a ten year span. She, in turn, talks about Bill, a man she married a few years after I had left and, sadly, passed two years ago from a heart attack. For this I offer my sympathies but she brushes them off, saying she is okay now.

"I'm sorry about Castiel," she tells me. I'd like to pretend like I don't know what she's talking about but there's no use. Instead I let out a heavy sigh, my eyes on the tree before me.

"It's fine," I mutter. "He's busy. He's just trying to make sure I'm safe."

So why do I feel so abandoned?

"I saw the look on your face when he disappeared," she tells me. "It's not the first time he's done something like this, is it?"

I sigh.

"No," I tell her as I fight tears. I confess his three month absence and that, up until a week ago, I thought him to be dead. I admit to her the loneliness I've had to endure over the course of the past six months or so.

"I think that's why he brought you here," she tells me. "And you're not alone anymore."

I smile at this before I place my paintbrush on the ground, my own symbol painting achieved. My blue eyes watch mom put the final touches on the last tree.

The instant the symbol is complete my knees buckle and I'm on the ground in a fit of hot pain. Its source comes from my belly but it radiates throughout my entire being. My muscles are rendered nearly useless, my fingers grasping the hard dirt as my jaw clenches.

"Adeline!" I can hear mom shout. I know she is close by but her voice is so distant. Her hurried footsteps ring in a mind that reels. The earth spins around me as I struggle for breath.

Even between the searing pain and thoughts unclear, I manage to formulate a reason as to why. Cassandra. She's half angel. And we just sealed her inside a freshly angel proofed property.

"Need... get out..." I gasp, attempting to drag myself to the forest only yards away. "... Cassandra..."

And everything goes black.


	15. Chapter 15

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Castiel. He sits beside me on the queen sized bed which I lay upon, a look of relief crossing his face. Though he hides it well, I can tell he carries a heavy concern for my condition.

Exhausted doesn't even begin to explain how I feel. My body feels drained, weighted to the bed without an ounce of energy to allow me the strength to sit up. Cassandra is still. Eerily still.

"Is she... is she...?" I stammer, my tongue unable to move as fast as I can think.

"She's alive," he assures me. "She's resting."

"How... did you...?"

"I prayed for him," mom pipes in from the opposite side of the bed. "It didn't take him too long."

"I'm sorry, Adeline," Castiel tells me. "I didn't think this would happen. You know I wouldn't have told you to seal the property if I thought it would."

I do.

"Everything is going to be alright."

For some reason, I don't believe him.

He places a gentle kiss upon my lips but he does not disappear. Instead he ushers mom out of the teal colored bedroom. I can hear them climb down the wooden stair case and shuffle into the kitchen.

"What's going on?" I can hear mom question the angel.

"She's very weak, Abigail," his gruff voice responds. "Her chances of surviving the rest of her pregnancy are high. However, the childbirth..."

He trails off.

"What about the baby?" mom wonders. There's a long pause before Castiel admits he doesn't know.

"If it's any consolation," he tells her. "She will be going to a good place."

And he's gone. No, I do not witness with my own eyes his departure, but I can feel it. I learned a while back that I can feel his presence or, more frequently than not these days, his absence.

He's right about my weakened condition. The duration of the remaining weeks and months of my pregnancy are spent lying in bed. Occasionally an upright position is manageable and from time to time I can focus my eyes on small letters and words long enough to read a chapter in a book or an article in a magazine without feeling sick. Mostly, however, I sleep and watch television.

Castiel's visits are infrequent and often quite brief, seldom staying much longer than fifteen minuets with a twice a week appearance average. He fills me in on his activities with the Winchesters, with Heaven and Purgatory. Only he doesn't tell me everything. And his company, while appreciated, often feels empty and distant, leaving me to feel ignored.

Yes, he has a lot on his plate and no, he does not have much time to spare. Only I feel like just one more burden he carries, one more responsibility on his long list of things to do. And he won't listen to me. With each visit I can see him shriveling and morphing into something new, something dark and I plead with him to stop his work with Crowley. I beg him to quit messing around with Purgatory and souls but he won't hear it and he presses forward in his crazed obsession.

Cassandra's due date draws near as does my expiration date. She gives a little kick as Castiel appears with a distraught look of exhaustion upon his face. He invites himself to sit beside me on the light blue bedspread, his blue eyes scanning slowly my belly and my face. I notice the light in his eyes or, rather, the lack there of. He's been shred to pieces by war and playing with demons for so long the angel who sits before me isn't Castiel anymore. Not really. I want to believe there's still a remaining piece somewhere inside of him that bears everything he used to be. Only now it's an idea that's difficult to hold onto.

He reaches out to me with a gentle hand, softly placing his palm against my stomach. Cassandra kicks. I quietly shut my eyes, hoping this will stop the tears that begin to spill and, for a minuet, it does.

"She'll be here any day now," he tells me in a low voice. I nod, my eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

"I know," I whisper, swallowing hard past the massive lump that has formed in my throat. "Will you... will you come?"

The silence that follows is incredibly heartbreaking.

"We know how to open Purgatory," he tells me at last. My blue eyes snap open, staring at the angel as his own gaze falls from me to the floor.

"Castiel, no..." I whisper a plea.

"It has to be done tomorrow night," he continues, ignoring my distrust in the affair. He pauses to give a long, heavy sigh. "I mean to betray Crowley."

I don't reply until it dawns on me what this would mean.

"You're going to take all the souls for yourself?" I half question, half state. His silence is his answer.

"Please, Castiel," I beg him, summoning every ounce of strength within my draining body to bring myself to a sitting position. "Listen to me. This isn't right. This whole thing was wrong from the get go but now you're betraying a demon?"

"I can't win without the souls," Castiel tells me firmly, his blue eyes meeting mine. "It is the only way."

"You can't win if you're dead," I point out. "That much energy, that much power..."

"I'll be fine," he tells me without concern.

"And what if you're not?" I fire back. "What happens to me? To Cassandra? They'll kill her."

His eyes burn through my own.

"Everything will be fine," he promises me but I know it won't be. Even if he is right and he can contain all those souls within himself without exploding, he will kill the last bit of Castiel that might actually remain. And I'm still dead. Tomorrow, maybe two nights from now. Whenever it happens, it'll be soon. And he won't be there.

I lay my exhausted body back upon the bed and begin to weep. It's not the idea of death that upsets me, not since I drowned three months back. Mostly it's the utter abandonment I still feel that provokes these tears, despite his current presence. That and the fact I'm spending my remaining days on earth in a bed instead of on a beach.

"I'm sorry, Adeline," he tells me at last, placing a hand tenderly upon my shoulder. "I must do this. I wish you could understand that."

"And I wish you could understand when I tell you this is a bad idea," I speak through the thick tears that roll down my cheeks, absorbing into the white pillows beneath my head. "I wish you would come back before you're too far gone." I pause to swallow past another thick lump in my throat. "But mostly... mostly I wish you were just here for me."

"I... I'm sorry," he tells me through a thick sigh, taking my hand lovingly into his. "I can't..." Pause. "Is there anything I can do?"

_Besides being here for your daughter's birth and my death? Or giving up this stupid obsession with Purgatory?_

I know these things won't happen, but I do have one realistic request for him. Something so simple that would, at least, assure my final days on Earth won't be completely lonely or my potentially last encounter with him so bitter.

"Could you..." I choke, attempting to calm myself. "Could you just lay down with me for a little while?"

At first he simply cocks his head to the side at my curious request. After a moment of silent thought his face softens and he gives me a slow nod. He lays himself down upon the large bed beside me where I bring myself into him. His right arm wraps itself snugly around my shoulders as his left hand finds a comfortable resting place on my belly. Cassandra kicks.

It's the closest we've been in months. Only it feels like it always did, back before the Winchesters started calling again, before the war in Heaven was so intense and before the notion of power consumed him. So safe and comforting it feels being in his arms I almost forget about Purgatory. I don't want this to end. But I know, all too soon, it shall. As shall we.


	16. Chapter 16

I sleep for a solid twelve hours or more before I return to the waking world. Castiel is gone, something I lack surprise for as I sleepily blink my eyes. Cassandra kicks and, as she does, my lower back explodes in a dull yet intense pain. I cringe, wondering what that was before I realize what this means.

She's coming.

The pain temporarily subsides, striking ten minuets later to consume me for another minuet or so before it again dies down. And so it goes. For fourteen hours. With each contraction that escalates I try taking my mind far from that room and into my happier memories. I try to escape the pain by thoughts of Castiel and myself together back before this whole mess started, back when his visits were more frequent and intimate. I don't know if these memories ease the screaming pain or if they only intensify them.

Mom stays by my side, leaving only to retrieve a glass of cold water or a cool washcloth for my boiling forehead. She watches me writher and squirm in mind bending agony, something I know hurts her to watch. Her hand clasps around mine, giving it a tight squeeze.

"I love you," she tells me.

By now I'm drenched in sweat, rolling in sheets moistened by my own perspiration as the contractions continue to intensify, radiating shooting pains throughout my entire being. My throat is dry and scratchy from praying to Castiel, deliriously begging him to come to me. I know he can hear me, but he doesn't come.

My eyes roll to mom as she softly and lovingly strokes my sweat soaked forehead and I manage a small smile.

"There's... a necklace..." I try to speak through a voice hoarse from screaming and praying. "... in my bag."

I motion for her to retrieve the necklace, the one possession I had managed to hold onto in my life of poverty, drug abuse and the listless cities I temporarily resided within. Pulling it from the bag she studies the crescent moon shaped pendant before a single tear can roll down her cheek.

"Dad... dad gave me that..." I state what she already seems to remember. "Please... if Cassandra survives... give this to her?"

She wraps her fingers tightly around the object and nods. Her lips press tightly against my forehead before my body becomes paralyzed in the contraction that sweeps my body. Again she squeezes my hand and it's all the strength I can gather to lightly squeeze back.

"I... love you," I manage to get out before another contraction can claim my already broken body. They're getting closer together.

She's coming.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

As the words leave her lips I'm no longer in bed. Well, I am actually. Only I'm standing beside my mother as she looks in a heartbroken horror at the stiff, lifeless, breathless body that once belonged to me.

My knees buckle and I fall to the floor in a fit of sharp pain. The floor beneath me I cannot feel but the searing pangs that reach every corner of my being I am certainly aware of. If I'm dead, why do I still feel pain?

I can feel her standing somewhere behind me. Tessa. She's waiting for me to rise and meet her only I cannot. Ghost or not, my legs refuse to stand.

"Careful now," comes the unfamiliar voice of an aging male. "Don't want to wear yourself out. You still have a ways to go yet."

My head snaps up to see the thin, bony frame of a shorter man dressed in a black suit, his gray hair slicked back and a pleasant expression upon his face. I gaze about the room in search of Tessa to find her standing just behind this unknown man.

"I... I..." is all I can stammer through the pain and confusion.

"Calm yourself, Adeline," he orders me softly. "We need to get you to the afterlife, post haste. You've undoubtedly noticed the pains you still bear."

I can only nod as I try to hold back a scream.

"Cassandra is not attached to your body," he tells me. "She is attached to your soul."

I bring myself to look this strange, bony creature in the eyes to reveal his honesty.

"Tessa," he calls to the dark haired reaper. "Come help me collect the poor girl before she births this child into the ghost world."

"Who... who...?" I gasp between violent contractions as Tessa wordlessly aids the old man in gathering me into his arms.

"There's not much time for formalities, my dear," he tells me, carrying my weak spirit down the wooden staircase. "But you may call me Death. Everyone else does."

If I could speak properly, I still wouldn't know what to say. Even with the constant and terrible pain I endure, I feel humbled by his presence. Knowing Death himself marches out of my mother's house and through the tall growing grassy fields with me held tightly in his skinny arms gives me comfort.

I can see Tessa on Death's heals, still silent as he steers us to the woods. Tenderly she places a hand upon my shoulder as we step beyond the threshold of the forest and suddenly I'm laying upon the aging dock in the mountains of my heaven. A wave of pain lashes out and I quiver in solitude, no Death, no Tessa. No Castiel.

"Adeline?"

The voice calls to me from the shore. It's familiar but my mind won't let me remember the face.

"Adeline!"

I look to my right and see the figure of a tall man with a blue mohawk running up the dock towards me and it doesn't take a second glance for me to recognize him.

"V... Vince?"


	17. Chapter 17

I should feel something, some sort of emotion. Sorrow, perhaps, that my friend Vince is no longer a part of the mortal coil. Confusion as to his untimely demise and how he found me. Relief that he is here. But I don't feel any of these. I can feel nothing beyond the pains of my soul literately tearing in a violent attempt to release the half celestial being still attached to me.

He is at my side before I can blink and he's gently attempting to aid me to my feet.

"Adeline, I'm here," he tells me. "Everything's going to be alright but I need you to stand up and walk with me."

Wordlessly I stare up at him through eyes glossy with fat tears.

"I... can't..." I manage to force through a heavy breath as the relentless surges of intense pain wash over my soul.

"You can do this," he assures me. "If not for yourself, for your daughter."

"... why?" I want to know.

"She's coming," he informs me, urging me to my feet with an awkward grip on my heavy soul.

"Ra... Raphael?"

"No," he shakes his head, repositioning me in his grasp before he, more or less, drags me down the dock. "Raphael is on earth." Pause. "It's Fate."

"How..." Pause for pain. "... do you...?"

Vince is quiet at first, contemplating his response while simultaneously focusing on the more pressing matter of getting me away from the relentless Fate.

"Castiel," he tells me quietly as we reach the line of trees and enter the thick forest just beyond the pristine lake of my heaven. "He's been coming around. He wanted to make sure you would be taken care of once you got here."

"Wh... what did... he... tell...?" I pant as we tromp deeper and deeper into the forest.

"Everything."

"How... why are... you... here?"

He sighs and stops dead before a massive boulder. From his pocket he retrieves a white pencil which he uses to draw a strange symbol and, as soon as he has done this, a hole the size of a door springs open to expose a vast, black abyss.

"Through here," he coaxes me, ignoring my simple question. He doesn't let me hesitate, ushering me swiftly through the rectangular opening before closing it silently behind him. I expect to find myself surrounded by darkness, having just stepped inside of a rock, but when I turn I realize there is no darkness here.

A cheerful sun shines brightly upon a small, glassy lake surrounded by a thick and lush forest of strong maple, birch and oak trees. Thick, fluffy white clouds sail slowly across the blue skies and reflect perfectly across the mirror of the still waters. A single row boat sits at the shore tied to a tree and stocked with fishing gear. There is a familiarity to this peaceful scene that I can't ignore.

Who's Heaven is this?

My knees give way at the edge of the forest and I crumple to the leaf strewn ground in a fit of explosive pain. She's coming. Any minuet now.

Vince is at my side in a flash and with him is a tall, dark haired man with blue eyes and a soft expression upon his face. I know him.

"... dad?" I whimper through the contraction. An encouraging smile spreads across his lips as he squeezes my hand.

"It's okay, Adeline," he tells me calmly. "I'm here."

"I... thought this place... looked familiar..." I breath. His childhood fishing spot, a place he used to take us. I remember now.

And then I scream. I can't help it.

"It's okay," dad tells me again, squeezing my hand until the pain subsides for a split moment.

"Boy," he says. "You sure have had one hell of an adventure."

"... how...?" I choke.

"Castiel," he tells me, something I should have known. "He made sure you would be well taken care of when you got here."

My right hand clenches tightly around my father's once again as another surge of pain overtakes me and I let out another scream.

"Where's Ellen?" I can hear Vince whisper to dad as he grasps tightly my left hand.

"She'll be here," my dad assures the punk rocker. Before I can spend any time pondering who this Ellen is she, or whom I assume to be she, comes bounding through the trees. She looks to have been in her late forties when she died, her hair brown with a concerned expression across her strong face.

"Where's Ash?" my dad questions upon her hurried arrival.

"He's distracting Fate," the woman replies, rolling the sleeves of her blue jacket up to her elbows. Her eyes meet mine and she gives me a small, encouraging smile.

"Adeline, this is Ellen," dad introduces me. "She was a friend of Castiel's."

"I'm here to help," Ellen steps in. "Ain't no one knows more about birthing a child than someone who's had two herself." Pause. "Everything's going to be alright."

Something deep within me is thankful Castiel had made arrangements for my arrival, yet a single question nags at me; where is Castiel?

I clench my jaw and squeeze the hands of my male companions. She's almost here...

"... Castiel... where...?" I pant between screams. If they hear me they do a wonderful job of pretending they don't. Ellen is telling me to push when a skinny man with big eyes and a brown mullet comes bounding towards us through the trees.

"I think I've stalled her for a minuet or two," the stranger pants. "Can't say I've bought us a lot of time..."

My screams interrupt his speech as I feel myself begin to tear. Excruciating doesn't even begin to explain the pain I am in. Dead I might be but, for a minuet, I feel like I could die all over again. Everything from my fingertips to my toes radiates with a pain so hot it all but lashes out at those attempting to aid me.

"I can see her," I can hear Ellen say. "Er... I think."

"It's awfully bright," the strange man adds commentary and receives a slap on the leg from Ellen.

"Quiet, Ash," she demands. "You're doing great, Adeline. She's almost here. Now, push."

I do and I can feel Cassandra ripping away from my soul. Before I know it I can make out Ellen's form through squinted eyes, her arms holding a small bundle of intense white light. She's here. It's over.

So how come I still feel so much pain?

"Uh, mom..." the stranger Ash begins. He motions towards me, clearly able to read my continuing state of excessive discomfort. Ellen stares at me for a minuet before Vince and dad pick up on what's going on.

"Castiel didn't tell me there were two," she whispers to no one in particular.

"... two...?" I manage to gasp. It makes sense. I am, after all, a twin myself. Only you'd think two doctors, Death and an entire fleet of angels could figure that one out.

"I'm getting the feeling nobody knew," is Ellen's remark. "It's almost here. Push."

Again I do so and again comes that unbearable tearing sensation throughout my being.

And then it's gone.

The waves of pain crashing throughout my being. The swelled belly. Everything. Gone. Now I simply feel an extreme exhaustion, as if every ounce of energy has fled along with the searing pangs.

"It's a boy," Ellen tells me.

"Adelay," I whisper to her without hesitation, blinking up at my dad who gives me a small smile. "His name... is Adelay. After... my... brother..."

"It's a good name," she tells me kindly.

From the forest floor where I still lay I can see her pass the balls of light, my children, to Ash who stares down at them with a mystified air.

"They're... they're beautiful," he all but gasps as he stares at them. "They're like... like tiny little glowing people." Pause. "They look just like their mom."

"Ash," Ellen snaps, bringing the skinny man out of his trance like state. "You best get goin' before she shows up here."

My brows furrow at this as I attempt to sit upright.

"What?" I spit. "What's going on? Let me see them."

"Shhh," Ellen hushes me. "It's okay. Just relax."

"Where is he taking them?" I demand, struggling against the restraints of my father, Vince and Ellen as Ash gives a quick nod before making a mad dash through the trees. "Where is he taking my babies?"

"They're not safe here, Adeline," dad tries to explain to me, attempting a calm voice as he does so. "Ash is taking them to a safe place."

"Where?" is all I want to know, but no one responds. They'll never tell me. I can see it in their eyes.

I lay my head back down upon the leaf scattered ground and shed a single tear. A realization dawns upon me as I lay there in grief. I'm supposed to be in Hell and I now know why. Turns out, the torture of my Heaven and the road I took to get here is far worse than what I was to endure down below.

But I still have hope. While it's miniscule and weak, I like to believe Castiel will return to me. It's a thought that gives mild comfort to my aching heart and I know that time will only tell if such an event will unfold. I can wait. Because all I really have anymore is time.

**Author's Note: Be honest, you kind of hate me right now. Don't cry yet, I've got one more chapter up my sleeve. **


	18. Epilogue

**Dean**

Our shoes scrape heavy on the worn pavement as our tired bodies carry us through the night down a lonesome winding road in the middle of friggin' nowhere. That massive cloud of demon smoke that destroyed my poor Impala also took out every other vehicle in a ten mile radius. Our only other ride out of that God forsaken place took off when we refused to bow before him. And so we walk, Bobby, Sammy and me, defeated, worn and hungry. And I'll tell ya, I don't remember this road being this damn long.

We march mostly in silence, our exhausted minds still trying to accept this whole Castiel turned God crap. I'm not sure what's harder to digest; the fact that Cas had it in him to actually do it, or the fact that he immediately demanded unquestionable obedience once he turned. Either way, he got what he wanted and now we're all dead because this time we can't stop it.

"How ya holdin' up, Sam?" Bobby's voice cuts the thick silence. Sammy barely glances up as he forces a weak smile to his lips.

"I'm fine," he lies. "What do we do now?"

"Now?" I grumble. "Now we go get some grub. I'm friggin' starving."

"I mean about Cas," Sam rolls his eyes.

"Nothing," is my response. "There's nothing we can do."

"There's gotta be something..." Bobby begins but I'm quick to smash his hopes.

"There's nothing," I snap sharply. "He's a God, Bobby. Not a trickster god or some god of the forest or what have you. He's a _God_."

"Bobby's right," Sammy defends our second father. "There has to be some... way... to..."

His eyes lock onto something in the heavens above as his words trail and finally die. It takes both Bobby and I a minuet to follow his gaze and when we do it's all we can do to keep our jaws from dropping. What we see is a hot ball of white light in the night sky, hurtling towards earth at an unfathomable speed. Towards us, in fact.

Balls.

Exhaustion tossed aside, a fresh surge of adrenaline courses through our weary veins and sends us running like mad men down that lonesome road. We're not fast enough, but it doesn't strike us. Instead it sails over head and crashes through the roof of a dilapidated barn a good hundred yards from the road. Our feet cease as we stare wide eyed at the still standing barn.

"What the hell was that?" Sam breaths.

"I don't know," I reply. "But something inside me is just begging to go check it out."

"Yep," Bobby agrees. "Me too."

"How is it still standing?" Sammy asks no one in particular as we cautiously make our way across the grassy field to the barn. "The speed that thing was traveling, it should have at least brought the whole barn down."

"The whole barn?" Bobby echoes. "Shoot, that thing looked like it was goin' fast enough to cause a crater."

We stand before the closed structure for a moment, each drawing a gun from our jacket pockets. With a loud creak we slowly open the heavy wooden doors and invite ourselves inside with an alert and careful stride. Moon light floods the eerily still barn as our eyes scan every corner of the abandoned place.

We study the hole in the roof the unknown object caused and trace its path to a forgotten stack of loose hay. As our eyes fall to this we notice something stirring from deep within, sending our guns up and at the ready. Our eyes watch as the back of a head adorned in long blonde hair slowly rises up, along with the top half of a very naked and well formed female body.

Which is pretty much the last thing we were expecting.

Our guns lower slowly but not completely. Just 'cause it's pretty doesn't mean it's not a monster. Or some dick angel.

Her head turns slightly, just so she can look upon us with big, bright blue eyes. A smile spreads across a set of full, well defined lips. The moon light strikes her back just so, glistening on what appears to be a very faint but extensive white scar in the perfect form of feathery angel wings.

"Hello," she speaks fearlessly, innocently batting her long lashes at us. "I'm Cassandra."

"What... what are you?" I stammer. She looks at me for a moment, her face filled with an eager curiosity.

"Me?" she begins with a smile. "I'm new."

**Author's Note: I feel I should apologize for making you all wait so long just to find out there's a sequal. Long story short, this kinda took on a life of its own & I've broken it into three parts. I hope you've enjoyed it so far & I hope to see you all back for round 2 later this week!**


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